


Love You Like I Do

by Ginia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gladio is the softest boi, I deserve this after that damn trailer, Ignis deserves it all, M/M, |Implied Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 12:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia
Summary: One day a year, Ignis lets Gladio spoil him to his heart's content. Gladio shamelessly makes the most of it.





	Love You Like I Do

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely benelline wanted fluffy gladnis goodness where Gladio does absolutely everything for Ignis, because he loooooves him so much. <33
> 
> Get your dental floss out, kids.

Balancing the heavy tray carefully in one hand, Gladio turns the doorknob, opening the door to his and Ignis’s bedroom.

Buttery sunlight filters into the room through the gaps in the curtains, suffusing the sleeping form of his lover in a soft radiance. Gladio smiles at the sight. Today is as much a treat for him as it is for Ignis and he fully intends to enjoy himself.

It’s after seven, and on any other day Ignis would already be up, showered, breakfasted, and halfway through his morning emails. Today, however, is not any other day – it’s the Advisor’s birthday, the one day of the year when Ignis allows himself to lay down the burdens of his duty, lay down his cares and troubles, and allows Gladio to shoulder them instead.

It wasn’t always like this, of course. When they were younger – when the Prince was younger to be precise – Ignis couldn’t afford to take time for himself on his birthday, beyond the exchange of gifts and perhaps dinner out with the royal family. There had always been too much to do, and it would have been Noctis who suffered for Ignis’s lack of diligence. Now, though, the Prince is 19 and has assumed most of his royal obligations. Ignis at 22 has come into his own as the Prince’s Chamberlain, earning the respect and loyalty of the Palace staff, enough that he can trust them to handle affairs in his absence for a day.

The first order of business for Gladio is breakfast. He carries a tray laden with Iggy’s favourites – an extra large cup of home-brewed Ebony, a light vegetarian omelette, and one of those ulwaat berry scones from the bakery around the corner that he loves so much.  And of course there’s a small bouquet of red, orange, and purple gladiolus flowers, because what kind of breakfast in bed doesn’t include flowers? A lousy one, according to every romance novel Gladio’s ever read.

The tray is set carefully on the dresser for the moment, and Gladio allows himself a few precious minutes to simply admire Ignis as he sleeps. His angular features are softer when at rest, and without the glare of his spectacles the impossibly long lashes that brush his cheekbones are on glorious display. He looks vulnerable and small, and Gladio aches with every fiber of his being to protect him, protect his exquisite, wonderful, brilliant, and kind man from all of the world’s hurts.

He knows, though, that if he lets Ignis sleep much later it’ll be Gladio who needs protecting. From Iggy’s wrath. The last thing he needs is a repeat of last year, when Ignis spent a solid 20 minutes lecturing him about the importance of maintaining a fairly consistent sleep schedule.

Gladio sinks to his knees at his lover’s bedside, like a pilgrim offering an obeisance to his chosen deity. One of Ignis’s hands has escaped the confines of the blanket and dangles precariously over the edge of the mattress. Target locked, he wraps his larger, rougher hands around Ignis’s and brings the other man’s knuckles to his lips for a series of reverent kisses.

“Iggy,” he croons sweetly. “It’s morning.” He peppers Ignis’s fingers and the back of his hand with kisses. It doesn’t take long before, with a murmur and a sigh, the Advisor cracks open sleepy green eyes.

“Hey gorgeous,” Gladio rumbles. “Happy Birthday.”

A sleepy smile spread across Ignis’s features, made all the more radiant by the morning sun playing over the scene. Or is it the other way around, he wonders? Does Iggy’s presence make the sun burn just a bit brighter, radiate just a bit more warmth? He likes to think so.

“Morning, love. Did I oversleep?” Ignis eases himself to a sitting position, allowing the light coverlet to pool around his bare hips.

Gladio shakes his head as he rises. “Nope. Not even eight yet. I was good.”

Ignis smiles appreciatively. “Thank you, love.”

Gladio waves off the thanks, because frankly if he had his way, Ignis would sleep ‘til noon.

The Shield takes a moment to gather some of their scattered pillows, fluffing them and arranging them behind Ignis’s back. The goal for the day is for Ignis to do as little work as humanly possible, and that includes expending the effort to sit up. He absently wonders if Ignis would consent to being carried around for the day. Gladio doubts it, even though it’d be kinda sexy.

Once he has Ignis settled with his breakfast tray, and been reassured that his lover wants for nothing (he asked twice just to make sure), Gladio slips into the ensuite to run Ignis a bath, complete with gladiolus petals and lavender oil, because Gladio doesn’t do anything by half-measures, including pampering Ignis.

He leaves the steaming water to cool somewhat, and returns to the bedroom, where Ignis is already nearly finished with his massive cup of coffee.  Coyly, the Advisor tears off a chunk of his scone and holds it out upon elegant fingers. Growling appreciatively, Gladio swoops down upon him, lips and tongue laving at the offered treat and the equally delicious fingers.

The sound of Ignis’s laughter as his fingertips are tickled by Gladio’s tongue is the sweetest music to his ears.

When breakfast is finished Gladio whisks the tray away, leaving only the flowers behind to brighten the room. Ignis heads into the bathroom and sighs with pleasure at the fragrant steam curling around him.

“Oh Gladio, thank the Six it’s not my birthday every day. I could get far too used to this.”

Chuckling, Gladio follows him. “I don’t see the issue.”

Ignis rolls his eyes as he steps into the bath. “You’re hopeless,” he groans in mingled exasperation at Gladio and pleasure at the heavenly sensation of the steamy bath water cradling his tired limbs, the sleek oils seeping into his skin.

“Hopelessly in love with you, you mean,” Gladio flashes a toothy smile as he moves to kneel at the side of the tub. It’s not big enough for them to both comfortably bathe together, but that’s fine. He’s happy to linger on the periphery, soaps, shampoos, and soft linens at the ready.

“Oh shut up and pamper me, you romantic idiot.” Ignis flicks a small stream of water at him with pinpoint accuracy, nailing the Shield in the forehead. He smirks and leans back against the edge of the porcelain tub, trying and failing to hide how much he secretly enjoys Gladio’s attention.

“So bossy,” Gladio pouts as he gently guides Ignis with one hand to lean back so he can wet his hair. With the other hand he snags a dollop of the light citrussy shampoo Ignis prefers.

They could both stay here for hours on end, with Ignis languishing in the fragrant bath water, cradled by flower petals, soothed by Gladio’s tender hands lathering, massaging, then lathering again for no reason other than he loves to touch Ignis. When he can’t justify wasting any more soap he simply kneels near Ignis’s head as the brunette reclines in the tub, his large, powerful fingers engaged in giving Ignis the greatest head and neck massage the world’s ever seen.

Ignis only gets out of the bath slowly, reluctantly, once the water has cooled to the point where it’s no longer comfortable.

Keen to take advantage of any opportunity to take care of Iggy’s needs, Gladio is there with a large fluffy towel. He pats his lover dry, chasing the soft cotton with his lips, kissing and nibbling at Ignis’s soft skin.

“Will you at last let me dress myself?” Ignis asks, lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Nope.” Gladio flashes a toothy smile.

An elegant brow arches. “Honestly, Gladio? You intend to dress me as well?”

Gladio’s smile grows, revealing more teeth, feral and intense. “Didn’t say that now, did I?”

Ignis huffs a laugh and swats at Gladio’s shoulder. “We have lunch reservations, and last I checked they’re not at a nudist colony.” The Shield easily grasps him by the arm and pulls him close. Their lips meet in an instant of burning passion, a sudden, spontaneous, perfect expression of love and communion, before just as quickly Gladio’s sweeping Ignis off of his feet, carrying him bridal-style back into the bedroom.

“You bloody beast! Put me down!” Ignis complains, though a burst of laughter quite spoils the effect.

“’Kay!” Gladio chuckles as he drops Ignis onto their bed.

* * *

 

It takes a scandalously long time for either of them to get dressed. Ignis comes hard, twice, both times down Gladio’s willing throat to avoid making a mess of themselves.  Eventually, though, they do make themselves presentable, donning casual slacks and soft knit shirts along with matching blissed out expressions.

They spend a pleasant morning at the farmer’s market, with Gladio dutifully carrying Ignis’s basket, his wallet at the ready to procure anything that his boyfriend so much as lets his gaze linger on. Before long they’ve amassed a collection of artisan soaps, several bunches of fresh herbs, a handknit scarf and an assortment of baked goods and fresh produce. Gladio doesn’t mind. He’d buy out the entire place if Iggy asked him to.

Ignis takes his time, chatting with the various vendors, asking questions about their wares and their processes, while Gladio hangs on his every word – not because he’s that interested in the art of soap making or beet farming or whatever else Ignis is discussing – he just loves listening to the man talk, his beautifully accented voice like silk to his ears, so soft and smooth. And it’s such a treat to see him so carefree and unhurried, discussing berries and herbs instead of war and economic reform.

After a few hours they’re forced to head home just long enough to put away their purchases – or rather Gladio puts them away after installing Ignis on the couch, his feet propped up on a pile of cushions, and a fresh cup of coffee in his hands.

“No work,” he reminds his lover, shaking a finger at him warningly. Ignis rolls his eyes and sips his coffee in contented silence.

Lunch is a pleasant affair. Everyone gathers at Ignis’s favourite Altissian café for some excellent food and even better wine. They’ve rented the place out for a three hour window, on account of the King and the Crown Prince both being in attendance. Regis likes to joke that it’s not because of him that they’ve shut the place down, but the birthday boy.

“You don’t turn 22 every day, it’s a big deal!” the King insists, even though they all know perfectly well that it was of course, security concerns for the royal family and Crownsguard protocol that forced them to reserve the entire restaurant. Still, it’s a funny joke, one that gets funnier with each glass of wine, so they all let it slide.

* * *

 

“I’ve been pampered, and now thoroughly wined and dined. I don’t know what more I can take.” Ignis says, smiling up to Gladio as they make their way out of the restaurant just as the midwinter sun begins to set. Gladio grunts, adjusting the armful of birthday gifts he’s carrying for Ignis – refusing to accept any help despite the fact that Clarus brought an entire case of Tenebraen white wine for his gift alone.

“Day’s still young, beautiful.”

* * *

 

The day may be young yet, but Ignis still has an early morning – birthdays only last a single day after all, and then it’s back to regular life again the next day. Mindful of this, Gladio has a very sedate evening planned, but one that is still special, still something Iggy isn’t able to indulge in often with his busy schedule.

Ignis is settled on the couch once more, this time with half a chiffon cake on a plate on his lap, made by the Palace’s head baker. His long legs are stretched along the length of the couch, his bare feet propped up on Gladio’s lap. The television is on, turned exclusively to the foodie network until Ignis says otherwise.

Ignis sighs happily as he takes a bite, leaning back into the cushions. The only thing more decadent and luxurious than this cake is the exquisite foot rub Gladio is giving him. It’s incredible, the way such large, powerful fingers can apply pressure with such precision as to hit all of the sweet spots in Ignis’s feet, all of the little pressure points that make a person melt.

“Can tomorrow be my birthday, too?” Ignis groans, eyes lazing shut as his boyfriend works his thumbs into the soles of his feet, where his dress shoes usually pinch him.

Laughing, Gladio lifts one of Ignis’s perfect feet, pressing a reverent kiss to the smooth curve of his instep. “No, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop spoiling you.” He peppers Ignis’s foot with kisses to emphasize his point. He likes, no, loves taking care of Ignis. Loves treating him like the utterly sublime being that he is, loves making him feel as good as he makes Gladio with his mere presence. He’d serve him breakfast in bed every morning and rub his feet every night, if Ignis only let him. He’d wait on him hand and foot until the end of time, if he thought that would make Ignis truly happy.

It wouldn’t though, and he knows it. Ignis is happiest when those around him are comfortable. He thrives on feeling useful, on supporting those around him. A day of pampering here and there is one thing, but it’s not a life Ignis would truly choose to live. He’d had the choice, many times. He could have returned to his family’s estate and lived quietly, let one of his cousins assume his role. He’s happiest as he is.

Ignis sets his empty plate on the coffee table, regarding him with green eyes that are misty and soft, lulled into a state of pure bliss by Gladio’s constant loving attention. A knowing half-smile pulls at his full lips and he says what Gladio knows he will, because Ignis is too clever for his own good.

“Hmm but if I let other people spoil me, then I wouldn’t be _me_ , and you wouldn’t love me the way you do.”

Gladio snorts and goes back to kneading any lingering aches from Ignis’s feet. “Only you would still be this clever and insightful after a full day of relaxation.”

“Also why you love me.”

Truer words were never spoken.

 

 


End file.
